Richard Modiano: The Dark Entries Interview

While a resident of New York City Richard Modiano became active in the literary community connected to the Poetry Project where he came to know Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, William S. Burroughs and Ted Berrigan.  In 2001 he was a programmer at Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center, joined the Board of Trustees in 2006, and from 2010 to 2019, he served as Executive Director. The Huffington Post named him as one of 200 people doing the most to promote poetry in the United States. Modiano is the winner of the 2022 Joe Hill Prize for labor poetry and is a Push Cart Prize nominee.

Richard, thank you for agreeing to this interview. You're a Los Angeles native but went to Hawai’i for college. What was the reason?

I went to the University of Hawai’i because I wanted to study Pacific anthropology. My motive was hippie-utopian. I read Aldous Huxley’s Island where he creates a practical utopian society based on already existing social formations and science brought together in a fictitious Pacific island. I thought that by becoming an anthropologist I would have access to ancient wisdom that could be used to create a new way of living.

As a New York resident, you were active in The Poetry Project, which is where you came to know such luminaries as Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman, William S. Burroughs and Ted Berrigan. What are some of your memories of those days and people?

The Poetry Project is a pivotal institution in the New York City literary scene that founded in 1966 at St. Mark's Church-in-the-Bowery, and it was 9 years old I first went to the Poetry Project for the 1975 New Year’s Day Poetry Reading Marathon. It emerged during a time of vibrant cultural and political upheaval in the United States, particularly in the East Village, where artists, musicians, and writers were converging to create new forms of expression. The Poetry Project became a central hub for the avant-garde poetry movement, providing a space for readings, performances, and the exchange of ideas.

The inception of the Poetry Project was influenced by the desire to create a space where poets could share their work outside the constraints of academia or mainstream publishing. The founding members included key figures like Paul Blackburn, Ed Sanders, Anne Waldman, and Allen Ginsberg, who were all associated with the burgeoning countercultural movements of the time.

I went to readings and workshops there during the time I lived in New York City. As for Allen Ginsberg, it seems that there is an Allen Ginsberg for every era.  I first knew of Allen Ginsberg as a spokesman for the hippies and elder statesman of the New Left before I knew of him as a poet, circa 1966 or ‘67.  I believe I read a poem of his accompanied by an interview in the Los Angles Free Press sometime in 1968, probably after the Democratic Convention in Chicago, but I didn’t really know much about Ginsberg until I read an in-depth interview with him in the April 1969 issue of Playboy magazine.  I didn’t read Howl and Other Poems until July 1969.  After that I bought his other books and read his new works whenever I chanced to see them. 

I moved to New York City in 1974 and on April 17, 1975, I attended a reading at Columbia University’s MacMillan Auditorium called “Another Night at Columbia,” a reference to a notorious 1959 reading at the same place that was boycotted by the English Department and written about by Midge Dichter as “That Other Night at Columbia.”  Although I arrived early, I didn’t enter the auditorium until the last minute because I was waiting for a friend who didn’t show up. By then there were no more seats left and the overflow crowd, rather than be turned away, was invited to sit on the stage with the poets by Ginsberg himself.  This gave me a chance to approach him after the reading.

I introduced myself as a friend of Marc Olmsted and Ginsberg gave me his complete attention even though a media scene was swirling around him and other people were clamoring for his attention.  We exchanged a few words about Marc, recent poetry, Buddhist practice and the IWW (I was and am a Wobbly and was wearing my IWW pin.)  I asked him about his next book, and he told me it would be a collection of his original songs (published as First Blues,) and with that I left him.

Subsequently I met Ginsberg three or four times a year in New York City, San Francisco, Boulder Colorado or Los Angeles at poetry readings, political actions, Buddhist teachings, parties and book signings until October 1996 about six months before his death.  On most occasions we only exchanged a few words, but I did talk to him at length in San Francisco in November 1977, in Boulder in July 1978, in Los Angeles in April 1982, in New York City in December 1988 and in San Francisco in October 1996.

I met Gregory Corso on the street in October of 1974 in front of a used bookstore in the Village where I was going through a bin outside the store and had laid aside two issues of Evergreen Review, one of which had a poem by Corso. I looked up and saw Gregory who noticed me staring at him and said, “There’s no flies on me, man.” I told him I just saw his poem in Evergreen Review #16 whereupon he paged through the zine and made a few pithy comments. After that I saw him from time to time at readings in New York, San Francisco and Boulder. I got to know him best in the 1980s where he visited the apartment I shared with Vincent Zangrillo who was close to Gregory.

As the editor and publisher of The Junk Merchants 2: A Literary Tribute to William S. Burroughs, I’m particularly intrigued by your relationship with Burroughs. What was he like as a person? 

In 1977 I recorded live sound for Marc Olmsted’s film Burroughs on Bowery and afterward we had lunch with his companion James Grauerholz at Phoebe’s where Burroughs talked about the possibilities of cinema (he’d already collaborated on movies with Antony Balch) and picked up on a giant mural across the street of “Squeaky” Fromme, former Manson Family member who’d recently tried to shoot Gerald Ford. 

Burroughs was reserved over lunch, but when we screened the film for him in Boulder the following year, he was gregarious and friendly. After the screening he invited us over to his apartment for a drink where he talked about firearms and agreed to do a scene in the movie that Marc was making at the time, American Mutant. When he was on his own turf, Burroughs was extraverted, but in most public situations (excluding a couple of parties) he was quite and observant.

In your conversation last year with Iris Berry on Poetry LA, you spoke of the history of outlaw/street poets beginning with Francois Villon. These poets are also known as les poets maudit and include Charles Baudelaire, Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine, et al. What is attractive about these poets for you? 

These poets came from the street rather than from a literary establishment and wrote in the language of the demos, and I would include worker-poets like Sara Ogan Gunning and Dan Denton. Street poets are individuals who cultivate their poetic craft outside formal educational systems, driven by an innate passion for language and expression. These poets typically draw inspiration from personal experiences, the natural world, and the literature they encounter, developing unique voices that resonate with authenticity and raw emotion. Without the constraints of academic expectations, street poets experiment with unconventional forms and styles, allowing their creativity to flourish in unexpected ways. Their work is a testament to the power of self-directed learning and the profound impact of poetry as a means of personal and artistic exploration.

How do you see Burroughs within the framework of outlaw poetry, given that he was the scion of the Burroughs fortune? Who do you see today as embodying the Burroughs outlaw spirit?

Burroughs was not really the scion of the Burroughs adding machine fortune. His father sold his shares in the company in 1929 just before the stock market crash. So Burroughs enjoyed the comfort of a solid middle class life in his youth, but his outsider status as a homosexual in 1930s America and later as a heroin addict in the 1940s and ‘50s puts his work in the category of outlaw writing.

The Junk Merchants features a piece and has an Introduction by Billy Martin, aka Poppy Z. Brite. Poppy was one of numerous participants in the New Orleans Insomnification event hosted by Ron Whitehead, who contributed his love poem to and an interview with Burroughs. Both Ron and Billy were also friends with the late Hunter Thompson.

Could you give me your thoughts on Ron, Hunter and Billy's place in the Burroughsian lineage?

Billy Martin’s writing is rich in sensory detail, often vividly describing the textures, tastes, and smells of the settings and characters that creates a deeply immersive and atmospheric reading experience. Also, Martin frequently explores subcultures, especially those on the fringes of society -- the punk, goth, and LGBTQ+ communities -- which are portrayed with nuance and empathy.  I would say that puts Martin’s writing in the Borroughsian lineage, although Burroughs created imaginary subcultures, pirates, the Wild Boys, a bestiary of fantastic life forms (the Mugwumps, etc.)

While Thompson and Burroughs share certain stylistic elements, particularly their stream-of-consciousness approach and satirical critiques of society, their narratives, tones, and thematic focuses are fairly distinct in my view. Thompson's work is more grounded in the real world, albeit through a distorted lens, while Burroughs delves into the surreal and the abstract, often pushing the boundaries of narrative structure itself.  

Could you speak about Ron Whitehead and his legacy, as he has just done the Last Insomnification and, while thoroughly vibrant still, appears to be passing on the mantle to a new generation of poets, included in New Generation Beats 2024, myself included. Some of the famous names in the book, representing both the past, the present and the future, are Anne Waldman, Bob Dylan, Gary Snyder and Johnny Depp, who is not only an actor but a musician and a scholar of literature. What are some of your impressions of these distinguished literary and cultural figures?

Anne Waldman, Bob Dylan, Gary Snyder, and Johnny Depp, though distinguished in different artistic realms, share a deep connection to the countercultural movements that shaped American culture in the 20th century. Anne Waldman, a prominent poet and activist, was a leading figure in the Beat Generation and co-founded the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics. Bob Dylan became the voice of the 1960s counterculture, blending folk, rock, and lyrical poetry to challenge societal norms. Gary Snyder was also part of the Beat Generation, and his work often explores themes of nature, spirituality, and the human connection to the environment. Johnny Depp often embodies the spirit of rebellion and nonconformity in his performances, drawing from the same well of countercultural inspiration. What they all have in common is a profound commitment to pushing the boundaries of their respective art forms and challenging mainstream conventions, each contributing to a broader dialogue about society, individuality, and creative expression.  

How do you see Beat Poetry evolving as we reach the first quarter of the 21st Century? What are some of the most important issues for newer poets such as myself to address?

As we reach the first quarter of the 21st century, Beat Poetry continues to evolve, reflecting the complexities of modern life while maintaining its core ethos of rebellion, spontaneity, and a deep yearning for authenticity. The movement's spirit thrives in contemporary voices that grapple with issues like social justice, climate change, identity, and the relentless pace of technology. For newer poets like yourself, it's crucial to explore the intersections of personal experience with these broader societal concerns. By doing so, you can contribute to a tradition that is not just reflective but also transformative, pushing the boundaries of both form and content.

How do you feel Ron Whitehead has influenced poetry and culture? 

Ron Whitehead has been a significant figure in the Beat and outlaw poetry movements. His work often explores themes of rebellion, spirituality, and the human experience, drawing on influences ranging from the Beat Generation to Southern Gothic literature. Whitehead's legacy is marked by his tireless efforts to support and promote independent artists, his prolific body of work, and his commitment to challenging societal norms through the power of words. He has inspired countless poets and writers to embrace their own voices, thereby keeping the legacy of street poetry vital.  

Could you tell me about your experiences as a member of the board of directors for Valley Contemporary Poets?

I was invited to join VCP’s board of directors by Amelie Frank, who was my entrée to the Los Angles poetry community after I moved back to L.A. from NYC.  Established in 1980 by Nan Hunt, VCP held monthly readings on Sundays at the community room of Union Bank in Canoga Park when I joined in 1994. The series was (and still is) vibrant, eclectic and diverse. The VCP series lives on today under the capable direction of Teresa Mei Chuc, Elizabeth Iannaci, James Evert Jones, and Bryn Wickerd.

You are the main host for Poets Café on KPFK. What have been some of the most memorable guests and episodes of that program?

To be accurate, I’m one of several rotating hosts of Poets Café and not the main host. My two part conversation with Bill Mohr about the history of Los Angles poetry was informative – Bill is an excellent poet and a non pariel  authority on Los Angeles poetry (see his history Hold Outs.) All of the interviews I’ve done were interesting and informative to me, but I especially enjoyed talking to K.R. Morrison in another two-part interview who draws on ancient feminine traditions for inspiration and gives voice to the experience of being a woman in the contemporary world.

What is your poetics?

I follow "first thought, best thought," a phrase disseminated by Allen Ginsberg who got it from his Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trungpa. It encapsulates the raw, unfiltered expression at the heart of spontaneous poetry, favoring the immediacy of the mind's first impressions, embracing the chaotic and the imperfect, valuing authenticity over polish. In this poetics, the initial surge of inspiration is a direct line to truth, untainted by the self-censorship that can arise in the process of revision. The intention is to create poetry that is alive with the energy of the moment, capturing the fleeting essence of thought before it is lost to overthinking.

What advice would you give to up-and-coming students of the art and craft of poetry?

For up-and-coming students of the art and craft of poetry, my advice would be to embrace curiosity and patience. Read widely, not just poetry but also fiction, essays, and anything that ignites your imagination. Pay attention to the world around you; inspiration often lies in the ordinary moments. Write regularly, even when it feels difficult, and don't be afraid to experiment with form, voice, and language. Seek feedback from others but trust your own instincts. Finally, remember that poetry is a lifelong journey -- nurture your passion and allow your voice to evolve naturally over time.

Could you speak to how your socialist politics have inspired your art?

The socialist imagination stands for the radical freedom of the individual, the meeting ground of materialist and idealist heritages, the intersections of unconscious desire and conscious thought, seeing through the eyes of women, the vital poetic spirit of non-Western thought and ceremonies, and dreaming the social revolution. Above all the socialist imagination extols the practice of poetry, poetry as audacity and insubordination, a source and method of knowledge, a model for a better society, an adventure and experience that makes all the difference in the world.   “Change the world,” said Marx: “Change Life,” said Rimbaud; ‘for us,” said Andre Breton, “these two projects are the same.” 

In 2001 you were a programmer at Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center. You joined the Board of Trustees in 2006, and from 2010 to 2019, served as Executive Director. In that time you produced and curated hundreds of literary events, and with Henry Morro, Suzanne Lummis and Liz Camfiord co-founded and named Beyond Baroque Books’ sub-imprint The Pacific Coast Poetry Series.

You and Ellyn Maybe have been very generous with me in helping me grow as a poet, and Ellyn encouraged me to write and publish The Death Jazz, which I read from at Beyond Baroque in 2011.

What was it like playing a crucial role with Beyond Baroque and creating all these events? What were some of the greatest challenges as well as greatest rewards of doing so?

When I took over as the director of Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center in 2010, I faced several challenges: BB had struggled with financial issues and I had to address budget shortfalls and find ways to secure funding to keep the organization afloat.

The center needed revitalization to maintain its relevance and attract a new generation of artists and audiences. I worked on updating programming and outreach to bring fresh energy to the organization while staying true to its literary and artistic roots.

Engaging the local community and building partnerships with other cultural institutions were crucial, so I focused on strengthening relationships within the community and expanding Beyond Baroque's influence and impact.

Balancing the need for financial support with the commitment to artistic integrity was a delicate task. I had to navigate the pressures of commercial viability while preserving the center's role as a space for experimental and avant-garde art.

You were elected Vice President of the California State Poetry Society. Could you please tell me more about that organization and what it does?

The California State Poetry Society (CSPS) is a nonprofit organization dedicated to promoting poetry and supporting poets across California. CSPS hosts various events and contests, provides publication opportunities, and offer workshops and resources for poets. We also work to foster a sense of community among poets and poetry enthusiasts. The society often organizes readings, poetry slams, and other activities to engage people with poetry and celebrate the diverse voices within the poetry community.

The Huffington Post named you as one of 200 people doing the most to promote poetry in the United States. How do you feel about that honor?

I’ll answer that by quoting Emil Cioran: “The further one advances into age, the more one runs after honors. Perhaps, in fact, vanity is never more active than on the brink of the grave. One clings to trifles in order not to realize what they conceal, one deceives nothingness by something even more null and void.”

In 2022 the Los Angeles-Long Beach Harbor Labor Coalition awarded you the Joe Hill Prize for labor poetry. Could you speak to labor poetry, its lineage and specific qualities?

Labor poetry is a rich and evocative genre that explores the experiences of working people, often highlighting their struggles, aspirations, and everyday realities. For me, labor poetry serves as a powerful means of documenting and advocating for the working class, providing both a historical record and a call to action. Today, labor poetry continues to evolve, with contemporary poets like Martín Espada and Claudia Rankine addressing labor issues within broader social and political contexts.

Could you speak about your membership in the IWW?

I joined the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) as part of my commitment to social and economic justice. The IWW, known for its radical approach to labor rights and its emphasis on worker solidarity, aligns with my political and social beliefs. My involvement with the IWW is a reflection of my broader commitment to challenging the status quo and advocating for workers' rights and social change.

Your collection The Forbidden Lunch Box is published by Punk Hostage Press. Could you tell me about the process of creating that book? How did you decide on that title? 

Iris Berry, editor and publisher of Punk Hostage Press in partnership with A. Razor, offered to publish a collection over lunch after an interview for KPFK’s Poets Café. I then assembled what I considered the pieces worth preserving and sent them to S. A. Griffin my editor.  The title comes from a poem in the book describing a child’s lunchbox on display in the Hiroshima Peace Museum that was excluded form an exhibit for 50^th anniversary of the bombing held at the Smithsonian Institute by order of Congress, hence “forbidden.”

I was intrigued to learn of your friendship with iconic Zoe Tamerlis, street poet, model, musician, actor and author of the screenplay for Bad Lieutenant, starring Harvey Keitel. Her life seems incendiary and tragic. Could you tell me more about that friendship, what she was like as a person, and some of your specific memories of her?

I can’t claim a friendship with Zoe Tamerlis who I knew from anarchist circles on the Lower East Side in the late 1970s. She was a striking figure in that world, known for her unique presence and distinctive style. When I first met her, her hair was dyed black although she was blonde. Zoe had a charismatic and intense presence. I didn’t know about her heroin addiction at the time. She gained attention for her work in the early 1980s, particularly for her role in the film Ms. 45 (1981), where she played a mute seamstress seeking revenge.

Her style and persona were enigmatic and edgy, aligning well with the avant-garde and experimental art scenes of the time. Outside of acting and writing, she was also noted for her involvement in the fashion world, where her avant-garde approach continued to stand out.

What was it like living in New York's Lower East Side?

I’ll answer with a poem:

On the Lower East Side

By Richard Modiano

I didn't land in NYC's Lower East Side

until I was in my 20s

Then home to La Mama, the Nuyorican Poets Cafe,

the Grassroots Tavern, the SWP headquarters,

339 Lafayette Street where CORE, the War Resisters League,

the Socialist Party and the Free Association

were housed under one roof

and the NYC General Membership Branch

of the IWW at 119 E. 10th Street a couple of doors 

from St. Mark's in the Bowery and the Poetry Project

Though told that the LES was in an

advanced state of disintegration

it was so much livelier than anything I 

had known before that I found it 

hard to imagine how it could have

been better even though the 

neighborhood was hard hit by crime

I had the unparalleled experience 

of fraternity, life on the LES was

the closest thing to living anarchism 

it has ever been my pleasure

to enjoy despite battles with landlords,

harassment by cops and muggers

The artists who lived there and their allies,

old time Bowery bums, sex workers, drug-addicts,

winos, gays and lesbians

and other outcasts, maintained a vital

community based on mutual aid and in which

being different was an asset rather than a liability

In this society, made of many races and ethnicities,

the practice of solidarity and equality was second

nature -- almost everyone was poor, 

but no one went hungry, and newcomers 

had no trouble finding a place to stay

On the Lower East Side of the 1970s

what mattered most was poetry,

freedom, creativity, and having a good time

To paraphrase an old aristocrat, "Those who

did not live before the gentrification

will never know how sweet

life was"

3/27/22